After the Injection
by Tazmy
Summary: Is the enzyme a poison or a prize? McKay centric with lots of Sheppard.
1. A simple game

Summary: Tag to "The Hive". What happened after everyone got back?

"I'm sick and tired of everyone treating me like an addict!"

After Carson had released him, Rodney McKay had jumped right back into the fray of work. Lab reports, experiments, and conjectures--they had kept him going through many struggles in life, and they would keep him going today. He still felt tired, but relatively normal. His men kept skirting around him as though sure he might explode or hurt them. Other technicians begged him for stories on how he had escaped and what it felt like to prove victorious in a battle. It was every geeks dream, but even those that showed interest were aghast at his audacity of taking the drugs in the first place.

It was after Zelenka had cast him another worried glance that McKay had had enough. He shouted the words before he knew he was going to say them. The lab went quiet in an instant, every eye locked on the chief scientist.

He had to leave, get away from people. He didn't need their worry. Taking action, he bolted into the corridor, fists tightly clenched.

"Hello, Rodney." Lt. Colonel John Sheppard matched strides with the physicist.

"Colonel," came McKay's curt reply. "If you don't mind, I really need..."

"... to talk to me about what happened on that planet."

"I have no need to explain myself to you."

"Is that so?"

When Rodney didn't answer, concentrating on the floor instead, Sheppard spoke again. "Now, Rodney." His tone left no room for argument. As they passed by the nearest empty room, Sheppard held the door open by stepping in its path. Reluctantly, Rodney followed. As Sheppard settled himself across from a table, the scientist noticed the bag Sheppard must have been carrying with him the whole time.

"I hear you didn't give Elizabeth any trouble about the suspension."

"That's right. It's utterly ridiculous and impractical, but if it will make you all feel better, I'm willing to accept being restricted to on base duty for a while."

"You think you're okay."

"I think I'd be better if people would stop treating me like a junkie. Speaking of which, is there a point to this conversation?"

"When I was told what you did, which I think was incredibly insane by the way, I was horrified. I was all ready to come in here and yell at you for putting yourself into danger like that. But part of me is also thankful that you were willing to go through that just to help us. The fact is, you've changed for the better," he paused and McKay offered him a weak smile.

"Despite all these feelings, however, there is one fact I cannot get around. The second that enzyme touched your system, you became a security risk."

"Is that so?" McKay hugged his arms to his chest, glaring daggers at his friend.

"You say your fine. Maybe you are; maybe you are not. Truth is, I don't know."

McKay watched with interest as Sheppard pulled out three glasses from the duffle.

"You've heard of the Monte Hall problem?"

McKay gave a loud snort, "Please, Colonel, of course I have. It's a probability question." As Sheppard motioned for him to go on, McKay raced into a super speed explanation. "You have three doors. Two of them have nothing behind them and one of them has a prize. You choose one door and than the announcer opens one of the doors that has nothing and asks if you want to switch to the remaining door. The idea being that you should always switch."

"Why?" Sheppard filled each container with three separate flasks as McKay took the cue to continue.

"It's basic math, hardly worth my time. Okay, okay... You had a 2/3 probability of choosing the wrong door the first time but if you switch you have 2/3 probability of getting the prize. It's quite the conundrum for some of the lesser minds, but far beyond our abilities if you ask me."

While he spoke at a mile a minute, his brain worked at twice the speed trying to understand where Sheppard was going with this. Eventually his friend gazed at him with a malicious smile.

"I have three glasses in front of me, McKay. Two of them have ordinary water in it, the other has some lemon. Choose one."

All someone had to do was mention the word lemon for the physicist's face to pale. "And the point of trying to poison me would be..." His voice quivered as he looked with fear upon the glasses.

"Pretend there are two very large, armed men here making you decide. Now answer the question."

"I fail to see how..." but glancing at the team leader's determined face, he knew he would have to answer eventually. "Fine... Um... The middle one."

Sheppard secured one of the glasses in his fingers, gulping down the liquid in one try.

"Well?"

"Well what, Colonel?"

"Do you stay with your choice or switch to the other one, knowing that I did not drink a glass with lemon in it."

"I stay, but I'm not about to actually drink that. I'm not about to poison myself over a game."

"Fair enough. You stayed because you had a higher chance of choosing a glass without lemon to begin with. Am I right?"

"Yes, I'm so glad your limited intellect was able to grasp this simple concept." He didn't know why he always had to insult people, constantly bragging about his superior mind. It was less true when talking with Sheppard, however. The man had passed the MENSA test and had an advanced grasp of mathematics. Leave it to a mathematician to try to poison him with probability.

"Very good. Now, I have a new game for you. Just humor me. Lucky guess by the way. Although you did have a 100 percent chance of being right." He motioned for McKay to finish the glass he had chosen, while gulping down the reaming one.

McKay, knowing to trust his friend, took a tentaitive sip and then swigged the rest down. Just water.

Sheppard took the three glasses and placed them before him once more, filling them with a new yellowish orange liquid, again from three different flasks.

"Now, you're in a room with two muscular guards that pose the following problem to you. They've filled two glasses with apple juice and one with some drinkable enzyme. Choose a glass."

"Do you have a point to this?" He was surprised at the anger, the terror in his voice.

"Choose a glass, McKay."

He pointed to the middle one, his heart thumping. Sheppard once again gulped down one of the remaining glasses, a smug appearance to his face.

"Now do you stay or do you pass?"

"I don't find this the least bit entertaining. You are wasting my valuable work time."

"Why don't you answer the question, McKay. You claim your not an addict, right? Well, I'm not saying whether you are or you are not. But which decision you make here has everything to do with it. Is the enzyme a poison or a prize? Who knows what those guards will do when the game is over. Maybe your team is in danger and you need to help them. What do you do?"

A cold chill passed through the physicist's body as he fell back into the nearest chair. He spoke slowly, his harsh voice filled with resentment. "If you were in danger? I would choose as I did before and try to get some of the enzyme. Why? Not because I need that crap running through my system, but because I need to help you."

"And yet you took so much of that enzyme--you tried so hard to overcompensate for your own physical failings--that you couldn't help us until the very end. You were too busy being high, too busy with withdrawal. You overdosed, McKay, no if, ands, or buts about it. Now I'm not saying you were wrong to take the enzyme, but I am saying it scares me that that was the only solution you could come up with. That you would feel you would need so much..."

"It was my only solution, Colonel!"

"Really? Maybe so. I'm not so sure. But the fact remains that you would take it again if need be. Well what happens when we are fighting with the Wraith? What happens when you have that chance once more to take some of the enzyme, to play superman again. Would you take it? Would it tempt you not because you like the drug, but because you believe you need the drug to survive."

"You can't be serious. I'm scared of the stuff! I'm not going to go out and seek it." His breathing was growing shallow. Was the room tightening around him?

"Really? Now that you've had a taste of what it can do? Now that you successfully beat up two burly men? Doesn't it make you feel powerless to be off of it? I can see it in your eyes, McKay. You know the truth. The graver the situation the more likely you are to turn back to the enzyme. Why? Because you don't believe in yourself. Because you know you are weak."

In an instant, McKay stormed to his feet. He could feel fire burning in his eyes. "Is that what you think of me, Colonel? As weak? Well, what the hell did you expect when you brought a scientist on board your team. I told you I belonged in a laboratory, but you forced me out there. Excuse me if I suck at firing guns and if I'm clueless when it comes to throwing punches. I tried to save your life! And yes, the enzyme helped me to do that because it gave me the edge I needed. It doesn't mean I'm addicted; it means I did what had to be done."

Sheppard didn't flinch. He had lifted his legs unto the table, just watching as McKay continued with his rant. It infuriated the geek only that much more, but he drew back his voice and waited for his friend's reply.

"I don't say this because I think you are lacking. I think you have proven your strengths in many occasions. You've saved my life before and I'm not about to forget it. But you do see yourself as weak. I needed to know where you were at. Now I know."

McKay steadied his breath, falling back unto the recently vacated chair. "Now we know."

Sheppard left then, leaving McKay to his own quandaries. The physicist thought back to how wonderful it had been to be strong, even if only for a short moment. Although he felt no need to take the enzyme again, he knew it was only a matter of time before a dire situation would once again leave him desperate and in want of the hated chemical.

He looked down at his body, proud of how slim he had become over the time he had spent on Atlantis. But it wasn't enough to hold him in battle, only enough to help him runaway. Even now, the drugs after-affects made him feel weakened and pathetic. He wanted an edge.

He had to find another way. He had to make himself strong. He had to learn to fight, to shoot, and to do whatever it was that made all of his teammates hold there own. For he knew now, he had grown addicted. It was not a need for the enzyme itself that held him. No, it was much deeper than that. He had grown addicted to power, to control.


	2. Don't Scream

**Author's Note: Given the number of people that put this on a story alert, I felt compelled to write more. Truth be told, I had expected the last part to finish this off. But for those of you that wanted more, I hope you enjoy this little something I cooked up.**

_Keep going, McKay, you can do this._ He quickened his pace, willing himself to breath in and out in an ordered effort. _Just a few more rounds and you're done. There is no pain in your side. It doesn't matter. Just go forward. Ignore the burning in your thighs and the stars in front of your eyes; just keep going._ The catwalk framed in and out of view as Dr. Rodney McKay continued his jog along the metal plating. His foot caught in a grating, but he didn't notice. The tumble was quick, halted by his now-aching palms. _Damn it, so close._

_Get up!__Pretend the city is in danger; pretend your team is in trouble; get up now!_ But even as he played the role of his own personal drill sergeant, the pain was taking control. The all-knowing but entirely pathetic scientist was once again unable to help himself.

"Rodney? That you? You okay?" a familiar voice called from behind.

The old McKay, the one that relied on enzymes to find control, would have complained. He would have cried about how he was sure he must have broken something. But the new McKay, a recovering addict of God knows what, refused to be that person. He cut off his typical rant, and turned to face Sheppard. "I could use a hand."

The Colonel nodded, concern etched in his face. He offered out an arm.

Rodney focused all of his strength unto landing cleanly on his feet.

"Mind telling me what you're doing up here?"

He limped down the hallway, using his team leader as a crutch. "Well, Colonel, if you must know I've decided that you were right. Congratulations, by the way. It's not often that someone picks up on something I've missed." He grimaced as each step took more effort. The old McKay wondered how bruised his ankle was and if maybe a blood clot was forming. The new McKay chastised himself for worrying about it and told himself to just deal. That is what the rest of his team would do. They would just deal.

"I'm not sure I'm picking up on what your saying right now, to be honest with ya."

"Of course you do. Clever of you, actually, using probability to get your point across."

He nearly cried out at the shot of pain that pierced through his leg, but caught himself. The only thing that kept him from crashing back to the ground was Sheppard's steadying grip. Moving all of his weight unto his left foot he started a few hops before realizing that his calf muscle refused to cooperate. Grabbing unto the adjacent railing, he waited for his body to stop quivering before wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

"I'm calling for a litter," the soldier stated.

The old McKay would have agreed in a heart beat. He had once wanted a stretcher just for a splinter, even as his friend suffered from a critical injury. But what about the new McKay? He glanced down the narrow passageway to the steps that looked far too distant. The lift was down those foreboding stairs. The new McKay would hold his own.

_Think that your team is in danger. Are you so weak that you cannot save them? Move it, McKay, or be forever branded pathetic and useless._ It was strange, berating himself in a harsh, unforgiving voice. Though he took the conscious time to think the words, it was as though he could hear them. It was as though those thoughts came from an outside, jaded presence that took pleasure in tormenting him. _I am not useless!_ He answered the imaginary voice with one that sounded more like his own.

He straightened his back, managing a determined countenance.

"No, I can do this," he whispered.

"I'm not tumbling down those stairs while trying to support you, Rodney. I appreciate what your trying to do, but I'm calling the infirmary."

As Sheppard made the call, the physicist lowered himself to the ground. His head came to rest against the side railing. A bottle of Gatorade was waved in front of his face, and the scientist gladly took it, gulping it down a bit too quickly for his tired breath.

"So are you trying to prove a point to yourself, or to me?"

He chuckled, nearly choking on the blue liquid even as it soothed his dry lips. "Please, Sheppard. I've had enough angst for a while now."

"I'm just wondering why the sudden fascination with exercise. Sure you've slimmed up over the last few years, but I know you've still been doing the most basic work out up until now. You are aware it's 3 am, right?"

"Actually more like 2:45. I should think you would be happy I was doing this. A few more lessons on shooting properly, a couple more miles a week, and maybe some training with a few of your soldiers and you won't have to worry about protecting the weakest member of your team."

"I thought you didn't want anymore angst?"

"Yes, well, I'm still somewhat recovering from a drug overdose. I can't be held responsible for anything stupid or emotional I might say."

The sound of feet hitting metal announced the arrival of the medical crew. The old McKay would have insisted that they wake up Carson, the only quack fit to assist him. The new McKay just concentrated on not screaming as a doctor started examining his feet. Tears soaked his face, but he brushed them off quickly. He had to handle the pain. It was just a stupid sprained ankle. He had had so much worse. He could handle it. He had to handle it.

It was quite the feat how the medical crew eased the physicist down the stairs and into a lift. At least he had had the good sense to get injured in the early morning when no one could gaze upon his predicament with their nosy interest.

"I didn't expect you to take what I said quite so... seriously, McKay." John Sheppard had taken the nearest seat to the bed where a brunette nurse had began wrapping the injured scientists foot.

McKay grimaced, not daring to open his mouth to reply. If he tried, he knew he would scream. _I am not weak._ _I will not be weak._

Cued by the silence, Sheppard continued, "I mean, yes, it's true that you're a bit of a security risk right now. I can't bring you off world because we both know what it would eventually come down to. But working yourself to exhaustion and injury isn't exactly the best way to get back on active duty. Nor to prove to us that you're on the up and up, if you know what I mean."

The nurse moved away, offering a wink and a smile to Sheppard. Rodney rolled his eyes. Maybe the new McKay, the one he was determined to form with every last bit of his abilities, maybe that McKay would be the type to attract beautiful nurses as well. As it was, only one member of the Atlantis expedition ever showed interest in him, and well... Katie Brown wasn't likely to be speaking to him again for a while. _Stop pitying yourself!_ Came the estranged voice within his own head. _How pathetic can you possibly be? Just keep concentrating on not screaming. You don't need them. You just need to support yourself. Support yourself so others don't have to._

The pain medication was kicking in. The hypochondriac in him wondered briefly about his poor organs that had taken in so many happy pills over the last few years, but the rest of him breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't really care what you think, Colonel. If you don't put me on active duty again, fine. What do I care? I came here to work in labs and study ancient technology, not to go gallivanting around the universe, putting myself in danger, and having everyone risk their lives for me."

"So what are you saying? You want off the team?"

"I'm saying that the only way I'm walking through that gate again is if I have some control over my actions and the actions of those around me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I think it's best we set up an intensive training for all the scientists on this base, especially those of us called to go off world."

"You're serious? You _want_ me to put you through military style training? Did you hit your head?"

"Of course I'm serious. You're right. If I go out on the field now, it's only a short while before I go looking for an edge again. You know what? I wouldn't be wrong either. I love power Sheppard and now that I've tasted it... I tell you... You have no idea how wonderful it felt to pound those bullies into the nearest wall. I watch Ronon do that all the time, and for once, Rodney McKay, he had his day. And you know what? He liked it."

"You do know you started talking about yourself in the third person, right?" Sheppard raised his eyebrow, examining his friend with a quizzical stare. "Look, Rodney, no offense but you're not exactly Rambo. It's not your job to go looking for trouble."

"Yes, well, I don't have to go looking for it really, now do I?"

"So you think some training will help make it all better?"

"I think Heightmeyer might be more inclined to release me back in the swing of things if she has something tangible to say I'm not a risk."

Before Sheppard could reply, the nurse came back, swinging her hips casually from side to side. She wore an alluring smile that was sure to put any man in his place. Sheppard was smiling too, and McKay knew they were both thinking the same thing. 3 am really was the best time to end up the infirmary.

With a crutch poised beneath each of his armpits, McKay started his journey away from the medical bay and back towards his quarters. Beside him, Sheppard walked with a light skip to his step.

"Please, do you always have to be in competition with Captain Kirk on how many women you can woe?"

"Do you always have to aim for the man with the most snark award?"

"Yes, well, you still haven't answered my request for training."

He arrived at his room, bidding his team leader goodnight. His muscle pains had long subsided, but his bed called to him with a mystical voice. _Damn it_, he silently cursed. He'd blown it again. Even the very act of trying to get himself stronger made him weak. _Pathetic. Out of Control. Damn it!_

He remembered how it felt to have that precious liquid run through his veins, empowering him with every second that passed by. He closed his eyes, willing himself strength from the mere memory of the enzyme. It had made him a knight even if only for a brief while. But it had also screwed everything up.

The old McKay had taken the drug because he had had to. The old McKay had taken tons of it because he believed he need to. The new McKay had to suffer for it. The new McKay was born because of it. But the new McKay was just as weak. He looked down at his injured foot with a scowl. He grabbed the object closest to him, watching as it shattered against the nearest wall.

He leaned back down unto the bed, burying his head in the comfort of his hands. _ Stupid, stupid. Like you could ever play the knight. Stupid!_

He grabbed another object, pulling it behind his back, but the inner jaded voice had turned soft. _But you didn't scream_, the strange voice reminded him. Lowering the degree frame back on his desk, he let out a deep sigh. _The old McKay would have bawled and I didn't so much as whimper,_ he cheered. Closing his eyes, he laid back against his prescription mattress. A smile crept upon his woeful countenance. Maybe there was something to this new McKay afterall.

THE END

A/N: My story Weakness is a sequel to this story.


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